I'm not Bukowski.

I'm not Bukowski.

I can drink every day,

I can drink all day,

I can smoke my lungs out...

But I'm not Bukowski

I'm not a genius,

I don't write every day.

I cannot sit in front of the machine 3 hours everyday

Shit, I'm not Bukowski.

Women came in to early

Reporters never came,

Nor early, nor late,

They just never came.

But I'm like Bukowski,

I also had an abusive father,

I also was hit since I can remember…

But I'm not a genius.

I cannot write a novel in three months

Because I think novels are shit,

I think Pulp, Women and all his novels are shit...

I'm not Bukowski.

Yet again, I don't have a "blue bird"

But I was "born into this"

Into sleepless nights

Into endless sorrow.

I was a Goth,

I was a punk

I was not Bukowski.

I could have cried all day,

I could have cried all night,

I could have lost my mom,

But I was never Hank.

Nailo Gottblut.

08/09/14

Mujeres

Mujeres

Podrían decir que mi gusto en mujeres es extraño,
inclusive retorcido,
pero existen mujeres que con una mirada me vuelven loco,
que con el sabor de su boca me embriagan.

Mujeres que con el perfume de su piel me obligan a delirar
y su suave tacto me envían a un mundo de fantasía,
desde el sueño más tierno,
hasta la más deliciosa perversión.

Con miradas que congelan el alma,
con palabras que calientan el cuerpo.
Con bocas que besan y muerden hasta sangrar,
con manos que acarician y rasguñan hasta desgarrar.

Nailo Gottblut
04/24/2013

Pray to the winds.

I have lost my faith in human race,
I've seen the horrors of their systematic violence,
I have lost myself to their shit,
And so I pray to the winds... for death!

Breath the air,
It is filled with the smell of death,
rotting corpses as far, as the eye can see,
And I pray to the winds... for death!

Pray to the winds, pray to your fallen gods,
pray for hope, but know there's no one watching from above,
Pray to your fallen gods, pray to the winds
Pray to your false, fallen and crucified god!

I have lost my faith and I seek for the truth,
from the top of the mountain my brothers bring violence
And in the skies there is silence,
So you pray to the winds... for death!

So you open your mouth and try to clarify,
the emptiness in the sky,
Can you tell me WHY!?
Can you tell ME, where is your crucified God!?

In the distance I hear the cries from the fathomless well,
In the distance I hear you pray to the winds.
In the distance I hear the meaning of life,
The lust and perversion,
In the distance you pray... pray to the winds... for salvation. (that will never come)

But there is emptiness in the sky!

Pray to the winds, pray to your fallen gods,
pray for hope, but know there's no one watching from above,
Pray to your fallen gods, pray to the winds
Pray to your false, fallen, and crucified god!

Nailo Gottblut
02/20/14